


Mine

by devilgoat



Series: The Scorpion [5]
Category: Halloween (2018), Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Blood Play, Bondage, Gags, Handcuffs, Jealousy, Knife Play, Murder, Other, Scarification, gender neutral reader, trans!michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 08:38:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17077004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilgoat/pseuds/devilgoat
Summary: A chance encounter with a dangerous mugger and then a flirty cop incites Michael's murderous jealousy. He is determined to make you his using any brutality necessary.





	Mine

Halloween was slowly approaching. Dreary, overcast days turned into increasingly early, chilly nights. Wind clawed through orange and red leaves. And people were going missing. 

It wasn’t really noticed at first. When you live in the town of Haddonfield, you get used to strange things happening. You get used to people being there one day and gone another. You get used to people you’ve known for years vanishing without a trace, and you try to forget them. You get used to the feeling of eyes peering at you from the darkness. 

Today was one such day. 

It began like most. You woke up to the vacant space in bed next to you. The warmth that he left was long gone. The fall air brought a chill through the house, but it always seemed colder without him there next to you. However, you had grown used to him being gone in the morning most days. You went through the motions of waking up. It was Friday, and that meant grocery shopping after work. 

It seemed like you were waiting for something the whole day, but you didn’t quite know what. You didn’t have plans, you weren’t expecting a package, and you didn’t even know if The Shape was going to pay a visit to you tonight. You were used to him being gone for extended periods of time. You knew what he was doing, but you would rather not think about it. It was strange and oddly exhilarating to imagine what was going on at his end. 

But you ignored the thoughts for now since you knew Michael would return as he always did. At least eventually.

Teeth brushed, shower taken, breakfast eaten, and you were out the door. For once you were on time, and you took your time on the walk to work. The sun softened the chilly morning air as it peaked through the clouds and settled against your skin. It held the warmth of Saturday morning cartoons and summer vacation. It quickly faded, however, and the autumn air picked up and swirled fallen leaves around your feet. 

Your mind wandered through thoughts only partially explored until you arrived at your work: Haddonfield High. You quickly stepped up the concrete steps of the building and ducked into the semi-warmth inside. You were spared Janice’s usual look of disapproval as you walked into the main office since you were on time for once. You set up your desk, sat comfortably in your chair, and worked as the world continued around you. 

Today was a day of unexpected focus and drive. You filed paperwork, made the calls you were scared to do, and dealt with Janice’s backhanded compliments. Some people just didn’t know how to be nice. No matter. You were going to follow this sudden surge of focus and determination as far as you could. 

The day ended in satisfaction. You had even earned a nod of approval and a compliment from the principal. With your head held high, you left work and started to head into town. You were so focused on your work, however, that you did not check the line of trees outside the window for the familiar white mask you usually searched for everywhere. Your mind was going going going from one thought to another. You were already thinking ahead on what you needed. 

Humble homes flanked either side of you. They cried out with midwestern flair and design, but they were genuine in their love of their inhabitants. Your home was one such as these, filled to the brim with interesting and odd knick-knacks that you had collected over the years. It was small but you were thankful that you could have one at all. It housed you and occasionally your love. But home was now the opposite way and you were closer to town. Houses slowly shifted into tiny stores. Haddonfield was still resisting big name companies and markets, preferring the shops they had existed for years and years. 

You found the trusty market you got all of your groceries from like your parents before you and their parents before them. Everything you needed was stacked along fluorescent-lighted aisles. You grabbed a rickety cart to place all your things and you got everything you came for.

You had the layout of the place memorized by now. The market was small, sure, but it usually had all you needed and that was good enough for you. You went around the corner, and your cart skid itself to a stop before it could smash into another right in front of you. Your eyes widened as you skirted to the side and looked up at the person ahead to apologize. Your mouth was only starting to form the words when the person’s face morphed into recognition. 

It was an old friend: Mark, that you hadn’t been able to see in some time. It was so strange to see him here. You had thought he left town months ago; you helped him pack up the boxes and bags yourself. You grew up together, your childhood homes only a few houses away from each other. You remember the day in preschool when he asked to borrow some of your crayons, took your favorite color, and ate it. You had been best friends ever since. You were absolutely destroyed when he decided to move away, but you understood. He needed to go off on his own adventures. Maybe even go off to the big city and make it. But it seemed like things didn’t work out. 

“Oh, shit, Mark!” You laughed. “You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here? When did–when did you get back?” 

Mark let his head fall and let out a light chuckle. “Umm, just a few days ago, actually.”

He seemed sort of nervous, as if you caught him in some sort of embarrassing lie. 

“Well,” you cleared your throat and treaded carefully. “Why are you back? You’re pretty early for thanksgiving, don’t you think?”

Mark’s hand crept to the back of head and swiped over his short, dark hair. “No, I’m–I’m not visiting. I’ve…you know, moved back. Things didn’t…didn’t work out.”

“Oh, oh, Mark, I’m so sorry. I–” you let out a breath. You didn’t quite know what to say. You opened your mouth but his hand waved you away. 

“Hey, don’t worry. I’ll be back on my feet soon. Can’t keep me down you know that. But uhh, I actually thought you would be gone by now too. Go on for better things. Hey, maybe we could’ve roomed together or something. Why are you still here anyways?”

“Oh, uhh, you know. Different reasons. I’ve just got a lot here for me.”

“Oh? Are you seeing someone? Is that why you’re still here?” His voice took on a coy tone.

“Yeahhh, something like that.”

“Oh come on, spill the beans! Who is it? Steven from high school? Or Linda from the coffee shop? Did you finally get the courage to ask her out?” 

“No, no, neither of them. You don’t know him. I mean, you must’ve heard of him, he’s sorta infamous around here, but you’ve never met him.” 

The wonderful familiarity you had between you returned as if he had never left. His hand reached out and squeezed your arm. “Oh come on, please tell me!” 

“Trust me, you wouldn’t believe my luck even if I told you.”

“Oh fine, be that way,” he sighed with a wry smile on his face. “Well, we’re gonna have to hang out soon, okay? I’m back in my old apartment above the pizza place so we can get back to our usually routine, maybe?”

“Yeah! Yeah. That sounds great,” you smiled at Mark and he beamed back at you. You missed your friend. “Well, I’m sorry bud, but I’ve got to go. Got shit to get.” 

“Right, fuck off already, right?” You both laughed and waved each other goodbye. 

It was good seeing Mark again. You were already excited for your pizza nights, but you knew that the question of whom you were seeing would pop back up again. You didn’t know how you would be able to say that you were in love with The Boogeyman of Haddonfield. But for now, you would concentrate with the task at hand. 

The last few remaining things were struck off your list and you were finally done. Of course you ended up getting more than you initially needed but hey, you wanted to treat yourself. You waited in line at the cashier, paid, and picked up the two large brown paper bags of items. They barely fit in your arms, but it wasn’t too heavy. 

Outside, what was visible of the sun was quickly fading. Flashing lights of blue and red streaked across your vision as a cop car blared its sirens and sped away. You watched it disappear down the street you were going towards. Slightly worried, but with an extra pip in your step, you started your way back home. 

Even though the weight of the bags wasn’t too severe, it was quickly getting heavier and heavier. It was going to be several blocks before you reached your home, and yet here was a tantalizing option that drew you in. To your left was an alleyway that connected various passages through buildings and stores. You already knew that it led back home, but it’s poorly lit corners and puddles of murky water always dissuaded you from traveling through it before. But your arms were growing heavy, and this shortcut would ease your burden. You took a deep breath and entered the darkness. 

For once, you did not look for the eyes that observed you. They watched you enter darkness and followed. You did not feel them until it was too late. 

There was nothing pleasant about the alleyway. It smelled, and the puddles of water that collected from the autumn rain threatened to soak into your shoes. You dodged them as best you could while you maintained the balance of your groceries. You turned corners amongst drab, stained walls and warehouse entrances. 

And then you heard something fall behind you. 

You whipped around to face the origin of the sound. You saw a garbage can toppled over in the alley behind you. Its content spilled out in a mess of rot. You waited. You waited for a sign of movement. A sign of someone. Yet nothing. It was still and calm around you, as if nothing existed outside of this alley. A long breath slowly escaped its cage in your lungs and you turned back around. The sound of your footsteps echoed down the increasingly dim passages. 

You turned another corner, and hoped that your internal compass was serving you well. It wasn’t. You hit a dead end and let out a frustrated sigh. This “shortcut” was becoming more trouble than it was worth. Heading back the way you had come, you nearly crashed into the chest of a masked man. 

Like a cat on a hunt, his footsteps made no noise for his prey to hear. His chest heaved with heavy breathing. His stance was firm and intimidating and he watched you recoil backwards from fright. A mask shielded his face so only his piercing eyes could be seen behind it. He brought out a large knife. And then he spoke. 

“Hand over your wallet and any money you have.” 

You were frozen in fear, and the mugger’s words bounced around the inside of your head like a clattering of cans. 

“Give me your money, now!” He demanded. His voice was firm and strong. Not too loud, but with enough ferocity behind it that you did as he said. His black, wool mask robbed any form of identity from him. 

“Okay, okay,” your voice was shaking, “Let me just–just put these down.” You slowly bent over to set your groceries on the wet ground. You reached into your coat pocket and brought out your wallet. You didn’t even think to resist. It wasn’t worth it. You didn’t have that much cash on you, anyways. And cards could be canceled. You threw your wallet onto the floor with a sick plop. 

The mugger slowly reached down, but his eyes never left you. He watched for movement and was ready to react at the slightest provocation. The only time he tore his glare away was to pick through your wallet and take out the contents of green fibrous paper. He tossed the remnants of the wallet back onto the floor. Obviously displeased with what little you had to offer, he took a step closer.

“What else you got on you?” 

“Nothing! I swear! That’s it!” 

“No, no, no,” a wicked smile spread across his lips. “That’s not it. Empty your pockets.”

“I told you, I don’t have anything!”

His pace quickened and you backed up just as fast. But there was only so far you could go. With your back against the alley wall, your mind fizzed with adrenaline. The man approached, now only a foot away, and without realizing it, your arm flung outwards, the end of it a fist. Your knuckles connected against his jaw, causing his head to jerk to the side. He stumbled, brought up a hand to face, and turned back to you. A flicker of violence flashed across his eyes. 

In a moment, he closed the distance between the two of you. Your fist struck, but he was prepared for it this time. He grabbed hold of your wrist before your hand could connect with his face and he pulled it to the side. His other hand brought up his knife and he pushed the edge of it against your stomach. 

“Don’t move. I’m sure you know what this can do.” The smile had crept back to his lips and he twisted the blade against you. It poked through your clothing and scratched against your flesh. Your fear was caught on your throat and your vision was focused solely on the man in front of you. 

However, it was a different man to the one attacking you.

His white mask was a glaring contrast to the mugger’s black one. His own knife rose in the air behind the mugger, and The Shape brought his weapon down into the man’s back. The knife against you immediately recoiled as the man gasped in pain. Michael Myers’ knife pierced down his shoulder and back. It raked down the flesh and sliced open the meat inside. It tore and ripped and bit through skin, muscle, and scraped against the strong bone deep inside. Michael pulled the knife out of the man and watched the blood spurt from the flesh and clothing. Blood immediately began to spill and drip onto the wet ground below. You listened to the sound of it, like gentle rain.

Michael was patient, calculated, and rigid as he worked around his prey. It was as if he were swatting a fly. The mugger didn’t truly matter to him, not anymore, not now that its blood was hitting its shoes and not now that you were here. Michael cocked his head at you, already forgetting that the mugger was hunched over beside him. 

As if in slow motion, you watched the mugger twist himself around to face Michael. His body spasmed from fear. His shoulders twitched and hunched as his knife twisted through the air and sunk its blade into Michael side. 

You felt your heart drop. 

Michael let out a harsh grunt as the knife buried itself to the hilt inside of him. With a glimmer of light, his own weapon slashed through the air and pierced the mugger’s throat. It went in through one side, and out the other. His dying gurgles sounded like rainwater through gutters. The freshly created corpse slumped in the alleyway, and its blood pooled and swirled around what was left of it. 

Your eyes stayed mesmerized by the mugger’s body. He was dead. Actually dead. You saw it happen. The first time you saw someone die in front of you. You saw Michael do it. Michael killed him without mercy and made him bleed and now he was bleeding too. Oh no, Michael was bleeding. 

The body didn’t matter anymore, what mattered to you was Michael and his injury. You didn’t know what sort of hurt he could be in. He made no sound and the only way you would know he was hurt was from the darkening pool that seeped into his coveralls around the dark hilt of the knife inside him. 

With a scary little amount of effort, Michael slid the sharp, slicing metal out of his side and dropped the knife to the floor. It clattered along the pavement and you were surprised to see his blood. The Boogeyman isn’t supposed to bleed. 

You skirted around the dead man, and your hands immediately reached to press against Michael’s side to keep the blood from pouring out. You felt the slightest twitch and flinch of his body as you applied pressure to the wound. He looked down at your efforts and tilted his head, curious. Why are you doing that, it said. 

“We’ve got to stop the bleeding, Michael.” 

Your frantic hands squished against the damp fabric and red stained your skin. Michael was hurt. Badly hurt. Your heart was racing. Adrenaline charged through your veins and ignited a fire in your core.

Michael, on the other hand, did not seem to be in a panic for a man who had just been stabbed. His strong, veiny hand reached for your wrists and gently pulled them away. You looked at him in confusion, but his touch said not to worry, it would all be fine. 

But it can’t all be fine, can it? He was bleeding so badly. His coverall was soaked. He was human, and the red reminded you of that. It was wrong. Michael isn’t supposed to be hurt. Did he even feel pain? He has to, but can he show it? 

Your immediate instinct was to reach over and cover his wound. It was to save him if that’s what he needed. But when you grazed your fingertips against his abdomen, he whined. It was a sound you had never heard him make before. It was a sharp sound through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. Michael gave you a slow shake of his head. No more touching. Not yet. 

Blood and excited chemicals flowed through your veins, but your mind was beginning to slow down. 

“What...what do we do with him?” You pointed a bloody finger at the cooling corpse on the ground and felt the sinking feeling in your gut at the sight of him. You turned away, unable to stomach it and focused your vision on the bleeding man before you. The eyeholes of Michael’s mask were dark. You fell into the empty pits and were reminded once more of his ferocity. 

Michael shook his head: there’s nothing we can do with him. Leave him. He turned and walked past you. Your groceries were still where you had placed them on the ground. Michael picked them up without effort all. The paper bags had seemed so large and heavy in your arms, but in his, they seemed to shrink. He placed one of the bags in your arms and you huffed from the weight of it. The slightly damp bottom made you a bit worried that it would burst open any moment. You had to get home quick. Well, the dead body lying in its own blood was another reason to get out of here and go home, but you wouldn’t want your groceries to get wet now would you? 

“Come on, let’s go home.” 

You gestured with your head and asked Michael to follow you. The sun had dipped below the buildings around you, and the dusk hid the body behind you. 

You went back the way you came up the alleyway, and turned the corner. You were still somewhat in the midst of the maze of concrete and brick, but the flashing red and blue lights of the cop car caused you to stop dead on your tracks. Only a corner’s turn away from a dead man, and with his killer mere inches behind you, it would be an understatement to say that you were scared. The siren whooped and the cop car stopped a few yards in away. You felt Michael’s heat behind you begin to recede as he disappeared into the darkness. Ice cascaded down your back as your breath hitched in your throat. 

Your bloody hands. 

You realized their nature with a javelin through the heart, and you put both hands underneath the paper bag. The darkness and wetness of paper would hopefully hide the stains. 

The flashing lights switched off, but the headlights continued to shine. The car door opened. A man in uniform pulled himself out of the car, his slick waterproof jacket partially obscured the golden badge on his chest. He was tall, well built, probably mid 30s, but he looked slightly older due to the worry lines across his forehead and the corners of his mouth. However, the lines formed a smile on his face as he beamed at you. 

“Oh, why hello there! How’s it goin’?” 

You were caught off guard by his nonchalant behavior, but you guessed it meant that he didn’t find you to be a threat. 

“H-hi, hello, uhh sir...” your voiced trailed off and you hoped you didn’t seem too suspicious. Your back was right against the brick corner. Your eyes darted to the side and you could see the faint white of Michael’s mask as his body pressed against the wall. 

“Is everything fine over here?”

“Oh yeah! Yeah! Everything’s fine!”

“Well, we had a break-in a few blocks from here. Suspect described wearing a black mask. We had a call that a similar suspect came down these alleyways. Have you seen anyone that matches that description?”

“Sorry, officer, I haven’t seen anyone like that around here.” You offered an apologetic smile that was closer to barred teeth.

“Are you sure? You seemed a bit rattled there.”

You forced your tensed muscles to loosen around your neck and shoulders. You cleared your throat. “Oh no, don’t worry, I’m fine. I just took a wrong turn on this silly shortcut and I’m kinda embarrassed to hit a dead end.” You were suddenly aware of how quickly the words escaped from your mouth. 

The police officer took a step forward, and then another. He came close enough that you could read the name on the little metal clip on his chest: Philbin. 

“A little shortcut, huh?” His voice had shifted. It had become softer, smoother. His hands rested gently on his hips, and closer to his weapon. “You know, it can get kind of sketchy on this part of town. How about I drive you home?” Oh, he was coming onto you. That’s what this was. 

“Oh, no, no, no, I’m fine, trust me. It’s all good.” You let out a nervous laugh that you wished you had kept inside. 

“Trust me, it’s no trouble.” He took a few steps closer towards you. If Michael weren’t right around the corner, you would have moved away from him. The energy that wafted off of him in waves made you uncomfortable, but there had been enough bloodshed. You were going to play along, say anything you had to, and would placate the man in order to stop Michael from being exposed. “Why don’t you come with me? Someone as attractive as you shouldn’t be out here in the dark.” 

Another nervous laugh left your throat. Alright, well if it got him to go away, then what was the harm? “What? Do you think a strong officer like you needs to protect me?” You steadied your breathing and managed to give the nicest smile you could. Apparently it worked just enough, and Officer Philbin took another step closer. 

“Awww come on, now. I can set you up on the front seat, get you nice and comfortable, and get you on home. How’s that sound?” 

“Well umm-“ your eyes shifted to the side for half a second, enough to see Michael shifting in the shadows, “Yeah sure!” You would do anything to get out from this situation. Maybe Michael could meet you back home with the other bag of groceries? Right, right that would be good. You could do this, you could do this. 

“And maybe afterwards, I can get your number and we could go out to dinner or something. Maybe I can even stay for dinner at your place?” 

You squinted your eyes. “Aren’t you looking for that one guy?” 

“Ah,” he waved a hand. “We’ve got other officers looking for him. They won’t miss me. Guy is probably long gone by now.” Wow, a creep and a shitty cop, what a surprise. 

“Uh, well, um...yeah sure we can have dinner.” Just the one dinner, and then you could tell him you weren’t interested. God, he must know how difficult it is to say no to him in this situation. Yes, he had to know how he was using his power. 

His smile grew wider, and he took the last few steps necessary to be at your side. “It’s a date, then.” Date? “Here, let me help you with that.” One hand reached for the grocery bag, and the other planted itself firmly on your shoulder. You felt the skin and muscle grow numb at the discomfort. 

“Hold on¬–” 

Before you could finish, you heard something clatter to the ground at your side. Your head whipped around fast enough to see a brown paper bag spill its contents onto the ground. But you weren’t fast enough to see Michael close the distance between himself and Officer Philbin. All you saw was the glint of the car’s headlights reflect off of the metal blade of Michael’s knife. The grocery bag in your arms fell to the floor like the one before it. 

He didn’t stab just once. Oh no, he stabbed again and again and again and again and again and again and again. His knife tore and pierced until the cop’s stomach was bursting with warm, wet innards. Philbin fell backwards and landed on his back. Michael was immediately on top of him, straddling him. The guy never had a chance. His body was becoming mush under Michael’s knife and Michael...there was something different about him. You watched in shrunken fear and saw the way his body moved. He wasn’t thinking anymore. No, it was completely different from the mugger. His movements were erratic. Each plunge of the knife came down hard and fast. There was no calculation. There wasn’t an assessment of the weakest point in the body to strike. There wasn’t a pause to see if the prey was still alive. There was nothing. There was nothing but pain, anger, and fury. His body was shaking. And amidst the sounds of guts and innards stretching, tearing, and ripping, Michael’s savage grunts slipped into the cool autumn air. Each of his movements was punctuated by harsh sounds that were only slightly muffled by his mask. 

This was different from all times before. This was different to your too-touchy “friend”, different from the mugger; it different from everything and anything you’ve ever seen. 

Michael was no animal. He was a man. A sometimes strange, somewhat different man, but a man nonetheless. He was an intelligent, complex being. Every movement, every action, every risk was calculated a thousand times over in his mysterious mind. Michael was always in absolute, complete control. He had control over himself, the environment, others, even you. Except for this moment. He was always in control except for these series of moments and movements that carried out before your startled eyes. Each plunge of the knife. Each heave of his chest. Each and every desperate, ragged moan that left him made him a different man. It made him an animal. 

The thought - the simple notion - of you being with someone else, of having dinner with a man coming onto you, was out of the question. The carefully guarded, seemingly vacant castle was destroyed and all that was left was fury. 

You couldn’t turn away from the displays of force and aggression in front of you, and after several moments had passed, you were shocked to find that you were beginning to get used to it. It’s not that bad, you thought. What he’s doing isn’t that bad. And you watched and watched until Michael’s body shook with relief and the knife stopped slashing through the air. 

With a quick, rehearsed motion, Michael slid the flat side of the blade against his thigh. He wiped away the blood until it was relatively clean and his thigh was not. The tension in his shoulders relaxed and you saw the noticeable slump as they fell. He tilted his head back, his vacant face up towards the sky, and let out a long, drawn-out sigh. For a moment, you could see the steam of his hot breath flow out from under his mask and rise through the cold air. 

Darkness had fully swallowed up Haddonfield. The only light came from the cop car’s headlights, and Michael’s silhouette slowly rose up from on top of what used to be Officer Philbin. Your breath was caught in your throat. A quick, strong swallow cleared it, but you found yourself unable to move, or even speak. Michael looked over his shoulder at you. Your blood froze in your veins. 

For only a small moment, you felt fear. You trusted Michael. The last time you felt scared around him was when he had first revealed himself to you, but you hadn’t felt it since then. Until now. It was only for a moment. But it was still there. Your body was telling you to run. Your brain was telling you to flee. Your heart was telling you to stay. It pounded against your chest, but it told you to stay.

You didn’t move as Michael slowly made his way towards you. His shadow grew over you, until you were enveloped in his darkness. He came close to you. About as close as the officer had done. His arm reached out, just like Philbin. But you did not recoil. You did not feel disgust.

For a moment, you found your voice. “Michael—“

But in an instant it was gone, replaced by the smooth white of his plastic lips mashed against yours in a “kiss”. Maybe it was just your imagination, but you could’ve sworn that you could feel the warmth of his lips behind his mask. You waited for his warm hand to caress you, to tell you that you were safe. 

Instead, you felt the cold snap of a metal handcuff collapse around your wrist.

You let out an involuntary sound of surprise. You pulled away. Your eyes shifted from Michael to the handcuff and back again.

“What—“

Yet again, you could not move. You looked up into Michael’s eyes, and saw nothing. 

And now you were his. And only his. And he was going to remind you of that. His hands moved to your shoulders. With the greatest of ease, he lifted you off the ground. You always forgot how strong he really was. Michael took you past the steaming corpse and towards the car. The headlights beamed on either side of you, and your body came to a stop on top of the car’s hood. The slightly warm metal radiated through your pants and clothing as you rested against it. 

“Michael, what are you doing? Get me out of these cuffs, I—“ 

His hands were on you immediately. While one wrapped its fingers around the metal string between each cuff and pulled it towards himself, the other tightened around your throat and his strong fingers pressed against your airway. You were quiet. He tugged on the metal once more. It pulled you downwards and pushed his hand farther against your throat and it hurt to swallow. You could feel the cold metal press tightly against your wrist. And then he let go of the cuff. You watched him raise a hand, point to you, and then point to the bloody thing on the floor. His hand came back, and he shook his finger. Through his grasp, you tried to speak. 

“No, Michael, listen,” you gasped. “I was trying to get him to go away!” 

His grip around your throat grew tighter. His shoulders slumped. But his hand came back. It pointed at you again, and then the flat of his palm slapped against his chest. You’re mine, he said. You’re not his. You’re not his. You’re mine. Mine. Mine. 

His hand slapped against himself again and again. Mine mine mine mine mine mine mine. His grip around your throat fell away. Mine mine mine mine. 

Your partially cuffed hands rose and slid themselves on his mask’s cheeks. You lifted his head to look at you. “It’s okay, Michael. It wasn’t real. I’m yours? Okay?” He leaned against your hand. You could finally see his eyes now. The corners of them were wet. 

He was crying. 

You had never seen him do this before. Never before. It hurt you. More than you possibly could have imagined. Pinprick stings of tears filled your eyes but you fought them back. 

“Michael,” you said, your voice shaky. “You can make me yours.” 

Michael tilted his head. You could see the tears streaming down from his eyes. The lights made them look like precious diamonds. 

“Make me yours.” You repeated. If he was so concerned this, then it was time to show him that you really were only his. 

A strong, hot breath blew out from the holes in his mask. Like lightning, his hands shot out and pulled your cuffed wrist above and behind your head. You pushed yourself up further onto the hood in order to keep up with him. He moved his body around the car to its open door. A quick motion of his hand and the window rolled down. Then you heard the second snap of the handcuff as he clicked it onto the top of the doorframe. You were now handcuffed to a police car. It wasn’t exactly how you thought you would be spending your evening. When you told him that he could make you his, you didn’t expect him to do it now. Not right now with a dead body just a few feet away. A dead body that was alive not too long ago, talking to you. 

But it was too late. 

Michael rifled around the driver’s seat for a moment. You turned to look, and wondered what he was looking for. The glint of shiny metal handcuffs answered the question. He had fished out a spare set, and the long strides he took around the car gave you a hint of what he wanted to do. The cold steel clamped around your other wrist, and before long, Michael had repeated his actions towards the passenger door. Now, both of your wrists were bound above your sides, and you could already feel the strain against the underside of your arms and shoulders. 

Michael was content with your position. He was now able to do whatever he wanted to you, whether you liked it or not. He was going to make you his. He stood in front of the car’s bumper, and only stared at you. The headlights illuminated his entire figure. All you could do was trace over every detail, every drop of blood, and every twitch. He cocked his head in observation. And then he moved.

His knife was set down on the hood, and his hands began to pull and tug on your pants. His strong fingers worked over the button and zipper and then dug themselves underneath and against your flesh. He tugged and tugged until your pants were around your ankles and your underwear was only partially covering you. A cloud of hot air escaped his mask. It circled his head, wrapping it in a shroud until it faded into the night. 

Michael’s hand was on the knife again, and its sharp blade glowed in the darkness. The tip of the blade traveled up your bare legs. Your first instinct was to flinch away, and you did, despite the confinement of your legs within your tangled pants. Michael didn’t like that. A split second after you flinched from the blade, Michael twisted the knife in his palm and jabbed the edge of it in to your skin. You gasped in pain, the fresh sting throwing a wave of hurt up through your leg to your chest. You twisted in place, which only caused a further twist of the knife in response. You bit your lip. Teeth sunk into sensitive flesh and now your entire body thumped with pain. More twists of the knife, until you finally steeled yourself and tensed. With your lack of movement, the pain began to fade as Michael removed the edge of the blade from your tortured skin. 

The Shape resumed his work. 

The knife trailed up farther and farther until it hit your thigh. It danced there for a few moments, trailing from side to side as it balanced along the curves of muscle and skin. Your eyes drifted from the blade back up to Michael. You couldn’t see them, but you could feel his piercing eyes travel from the tip of the knife and dig themselves deep into your flesh. His eyes tore you open and devoured your flesh. That is, until the sharp edge of The Shape’s knife slipped between your flesh and the fabric of your underwear.

Michael was slow and deliberate as his knife twisted in his hand and the sharp edge was facing outwards and against your underwear. With a quick, strong motion, he pulled up and back and tore the fabric away from your hip. A sharp tear rang out into the night, and with his other hand, he tore away the remnants of your underwear. His movements were quick and the sound brought you out of your shock. 

“Hey! That was unnecess—“

With a simple reach forward, he stuffed your underwear into your mouth, and gagged you. 

Moans and sounds struggled to get past the fabric that bulged in your cheeks and pressed against your tongue. Two adept fingers stuffed your tattered underwear deep enough that you could not manage to pull it out without the use of your hands. However, you still tried. Your tongue pushed against the quickly dampening fabric as you found yourself drooling. But yet again, The Shape noticed your misbehavior. His large, thick, veiny hand pressed against your open mouth and pushed the rest of your underwear in. Now, your mouth was completely stuffed to the point that your jaw could not close completely. It had already started to ache. His palm rested against your lips, which stopped you from another attempt at ejecting your gag. His fingers squeezed your cheeks hard enough that he could feel the stuffed fabric behind it. Another huff of hot breath left him. 

You were now bare to both him and the crisp autumn air. Your wrists instinctively tugged against the handcuffs, and you silently winced at the definite bruises that settled into your muscles.

Once satisfied with your silence, Michael removed his hand. You felt the cold steel of his kitchen knife slide itself against your quivering legs. It’s edge rested between your belly button and your groin. He spun the handle between his fingers, which let its tip run circles against the tighten flesh. You watched the careful movements he made with it, each with a specific purpose. In a quick movement, his blade descended and the intimidating sharpness traveled to your groin. 

Without meaning to, your hips bucked into the air, far enough so that you raised yourself off the car hood. A sound of guttural surprise left your throat and pushed against the barrier in your mouth. You hadn’t realized how badly you had begun to crave that edged slice against your flesh. And now it was closer than ever to your throbbing arousal. 

With a forceful hand, Michael slammed your hips down onto hood of the car. His thick hand remained there, holding you still. The flat side of the honed blade traveled up your entire length before sliding itself to its point. Michael watched your face as he ever so slowly pressed the tip into the skin of your bundled head of nerves. Your face contorted in pain and a deep cry let itself out from your chest. Your hips struggled to move away, buck, twist, anything it could do to get away from the pain of his knife, but his hand didn’t allow you to budge an inch. As slowly as it pierced you, the blade fell away. 

You breathed in a deep sigh of relief. That is, until you felt its chill run itself from the base of your length once more. He repeated his actions over and over again. He attacked your arousal with his knife, and somehow, it only made your lust grow stronger. Blood rushed down to your groin and your body begged for more of his torture. You were visibly throbbing from the acute pain, which only give him greater reason to try to alleviate it. 

The pain was absolutely, unforgivingly excruciating. And you loved it. 

Your body twisted underneath his influence until tears ran down the sides of your eyes. You were a sobbing, throbbing mess of a being. And you were putty in his hands. You throbbed in pain and in the need of release, and your mind was spinning with desperation. He continued to torture your entire length and pelvis with his knife until thin pinpricks of blood trailed down the inside of your thighs. Occasionally, he moved his other hand to pinch and squeeze at your heat. It was overwhelming. Your chest was heaving with anticipation and need, the need of something greater. Harsher. 

And like the angel of sin and lust, Michael blessed you with his pain. 

The knife suddenly left your wrecked and ruined self. It was quickly replaced with the hard plastic and metal of its handle. You were lying in a puddle of your own sweat and precum, and The Shape rubbed your fluids against his weapon until it was coated in you. The flat edge of the blade rested against his palm. 

For a moment, he just stood there, watching. He observed his handiwork. He observed how your body reacted to his movements, his touch, his torture. Huff after huff of hot steam and breath left his mask, and past the pounding inside your ears, you could hear his strong pants behind his white mask. The handle of his knife rubbed against your length and trailed upwards until it slid and flicked against the ruined bundle of nerves. Your body twitched and bucked on its own. As it calmed, Michael brought the head of his weapon to your entrance, and rubbed your juices against it. You bucked once more, your entire body reacting from such a simple touch. Your arms jerked against your restraints, your legs kicked with the little space they had. The head of the knife rubbed against your eager entrance, and through the sound of your ragged moans, it entered you. 

It wasn’t much at first, only about half an inch, but it still caused your head to fall back against the car underneath you. Your moans turned into harsh yells that were muffled by your gag. The metal and plastic slid farther into you with every moan, until the entire handle was inside you. Michael’s fingers rested only on the blade, your internal muscles just enough to keep the entire handle inside you without any more help. Your walls squeezed and twitched around it, which caused it to twitch and bounce along your opening. And in turn, that made you shudder harder against it. 

Michael left it in you for what felt like forever. Your warmth heated the handle until it felt like it belonged inside of you. And then Michael began to pull it out. At an agonizingly slow pace, he teased the knife’s handle out from you. Your walls squeezed and tugged at it, your muscles trying their best to bring it back inside, but Michael was stronger. He brought the knife out until only about and inch was left. You took a deep breath through your nose, and waited for him to slowly fill you back up again. It didn’t turn out exactly like that. 

With a flick of his wrist, Michael shoved the entire handle back up until you. A harsh moan that tore at your throat rang through the alleyway. Without a drop of mercy, Michael worked the knife handle in and out of you at a quick pace. Your wall envelopes around every inch as it fucked you. It’s length and structure prodded at the deep areas inside. You felt as if you were about to burst. 

You swallowed up the ridged handle until your walls clung to its retreating length. 

Michael slowly worked you over. The knife went in, then out, and finally back in until you were a wriggling mess of flesh and lust. 

His free hand gave your hips a final squeeze before it began to wander around your body. He grabbed at your flesh, his thick fingers kneading your body like fresh dough. Harsh fingers pressed deeply into you, hoping for bruises, and slowly pulled away to rake fingernails against your sensitive skin.

You felt yourself growing closer with each electrifying touch. Your muscles tensed and relaxed so quickly that you could feel their micro fibers tear, and you knew you would be sore the next morning. 

You stared up at the starry night sky. You focused on the sound of his breathing and his motions. You immediately felt when the long handle of the knife completely left your entrance. Your hole spasmed with ecstasy. Through your gag, you moaned for more pleasure. Or was it torture? Tortured pleasure or pleasurable torture? Either way, your hips bucked into the air, and you leaked long strands onto the rest of yourself. Precum drooled out of you. Your wrists had gone numb in their restraints. Your jaw ached as it was held open by your gag. 

Distorted words were muffled as they struggled to be heard from behind your gag. More, more, more. Give me more, Michael, you thought. I’m so close. Please just make it all stop. Make the pain stop. 

It’s like Michael could hear your thoughts echoing into his head. The handle wavered over your entrance. The plastic hilt rubbed up and down your length. It paused for just a moment on your tip before it slipped away once more into the darkness. Your body squirmed with need. He teased you. He knew how much you needed it and yet he still tortured you like this. Michael watched your body squirm in pain. He hovered the knife above your groin just high enough that you couldn’t touch with yourself even if you bucked into the air. Distance of only atoms kept you from what you so desperately needed. 

Desire overcame you. You were desperate. You were needy. Your moans turned to solid screams as the only thing that mattered was you, Michael, and your orgasm. 

He would occasionally dip the knife handle just enough that it would graze your member, which sent shockwaves through your body. But it still wasn’t enough. You threw your head back in frustration. 

And then he did something different. You felt the sharp pain of the knife scratching into your skin. You looked down. Michael was staring at the tip of his knife on the inside of your thigh with laser focus. It made the same dance on your skin as it had before, its sharp edge causing micro cuts into your skin. But then his grip on the knife changed. The light fingers that circled around the handle turned into a firm, white-knuckled grip. The sharp, needle-like pain quickly turned into searing, trembling agony. 

Your moans turned into outright screams as Michael carved a line into the sensitive flesh of the inside of your thigh. Before, you squirmed with need. Now, you squirmed with terrible, terrible pain as you cried out. But he continued. You could feel your wrists growing purple from the strain, and you felt the hot warmth of blood stream down your leg. Michael continued his work. 

Another line. And then another. You could feel the deep, straight cuts into you clear as day on this dark, cold night. You needed to see what he was doing. At first, the cuts seemed to be only a disarray of unorganized slices. But slowly, they took shape. You realized they were crude, messy letters. An “M”. And then an “I”. The cuts ran higher and closer to your crotch with each pierce. 

An N. And then the longest line yet, the vertical cut of the E. As The Shape drew the first of the horizontal, parallel lines, the blade cut closer and closer to your throbbing meat. The top line sliced up your leg. The cut ended with the blade flicking outward, with the very tip of it nipping your most sensitive area. Your throat clenched, your chest heaved, and as desperately as you wanted to scream, you could not. The scream was from pain, yes, but also from pure, unobstructed pleasure. Waves and waves of pleasure flowed through you body like the blood flowed down your leg. 

His knife returned and slashed out the second parallel line. The blade flicked against you once more. Your mind had broken down from its higher thinking. You didn’t think of consequences. You didn’t think of dead bodies. You didn’t think about anything other than the pleasure Michael and his knife gave you. 

And then the final line. Michael put his face close, like a surgeon with scalpel, and drew out the last line with slow, agonizing precision. The prolonged pain broke through the final barrier of your mind, and your body shivered as it reached its peak. With the final, delicious flick of his knife, he left his mark on you. 

MINE. 

The last cut brought you fully into your orgasm, and thus fully into his control. You came hard, and your entire body shook with absolute pleasure. It raised itself up off the hood of the car as you screamed behind your gag. Blood dripped down your leg. Your legs shook from stimulation. With a quick swoop, Michael placed his hand on your bucking groin and massaged your length as you spurted cum. You came and you came and you came. Unending waves of pleasure clawed through your body. Your racing heart pumped more blood through your cuts. The sensitive skin burned and howled with pain and it sent you further and further into the throes of your orgasm. His hand didn’t leave you until every touch he gave made your entire body spasm. 

You were now his in every sense of the word.

No one else could do this for you. No one else could make you feel this good. No one else could make you feel this much pain. You were his. Only his. 

Your body clenched and unclenched as the last of your sinful pleasures explored your frame. You struggled for breath, and the air rasped down your nostrils and down your throat. 

The chill night air blew past your skin and raised it into goosebumps. It chilled your bare skin, however, it elevated the contrast of your hot throbbing blood as it smeared between your legs. Your body shook with one last shudder before it collapsed onto the steel of the cop car. Your chest heaved and you swam in your own cum and blood. It was several moments before you realized that Michael was still standing over you. Panting and huffing, cloud after cloud of steam wafted from his mask as he tried to control himself. 

The hand he held on you wiped up some of your cum and ran across your wounds. With fingers drenched in cum and blood, he slipped it underneath his mask. Although you couldn’t see it you pictured the way his tongue ran across his rough fingertips. You thought of the fluids mixing and coating his tongue and the roof of his mouth. You saw his throat swallow, and a low, animalistic growl escaped his throat. If you could, you would have smiled in satisfaction, as you knew he loved your taste. 

Michael lingered over you for a moment but he soon moved away from you. Michael walked back to the cooling corpse on the wet floor. He crouched and dug through the bloodstained pockets of his jacket, shirt, and pants, until he found what he was looking for. The key for the handcuffs looked so small in his large hand. 

As he turned, you noticed his throbbing wetness staining the front of his coveralls. 

Michael finally released you from your cuffs. You barely had enough time to remove your gag before Michael grabbed your hips and pulled you down onto the front end of the car. Your crotch was now pressed against his, and the blood on your thigh stained the hip of his clothing. You let out a sharp yelp as both your groin and wounds stung from his contact. 

But Michael had a need as well. He had satisfied yours, and now it was his turn. 

With a jagged grip, Michael pulled the zipper of his coveralls down as far as it could go. His pale chest shuddered above you. He tugged the side of his coveralls until he exposed himself to you. His soaking, throbbing crotch pressed itself against your blood and cum. He smeared your fluids along himself. His bundle of nerves flicked against yours. The Boogeyman started to buck against your growth, and slid himself from your entrance to your marks and back again. He oozed handfuls of precum against you, and the clear grunts of pleasure signified his fast approach to his peak. Your hands rose to wrap around his neck and shoulders, although they had grown weak from their restraints. You bit down on your lip with each buck into your hypersensitive flesh. He fucked your mess of blood and cum until he was coated in it. 

You worried about what kind of damage this exertion would do on the wound in his side. But it seemed like he had forgotten all about it. Nothing would stop him from using you up.

He pulsed against you, and his cum soaked into your wounds with a satisfying sting. Buck after buck slammed against your hypersensitive groin until he gave one last harsh grunt against you. Michael collapsed on top of you, his hands still stuck against your hips. His body rose and fell against you, and your intermingling juices felt hot enough for steam to rise off of them. 

Michael slowly peeled himself away from you. He was firmly coated in your blood, but he made no motion to clean himself. He zipped up his coveralls and ignored the obvious wet patch his leaking heat had left behind on his clothing. 

His guttural panting slowed. You fell back onto the hood and waited a moment to regain your strength. When you finally had enough, you pulled yourself up and sat. 

You reached for your ruined underwear. “Thanks for this,” you said, as you held up what used to be one of your favorite pairs. 

You winced at your pain and used the tattered fabric of your underwear to press against your blood. Your grimaced, but you had had worse. After a moment, you peeled the fabric away to gaze at the writing Michael had left you. 

MINE. 

It rang truer now than ever. 

The cuts were just deep enough that you knew they would leave at least a light scar on your body, and you were content with that. You looked up. Michael was still staring at you. Your arm shot out and grabbed his coveralls. You knew you didn’t have the strength to actually move him, but he moved closer anyways. You tugged him down and kissed the perfected plastic lips. 

“I love you.” 

You said before you could stop yourself. Any other time, you would have freaked out from saying it aloud. It was the first time you had spoken it into existence. But it was true. You realized how silly it was to hold it back for so long. And despite his silence, you knew Michael loved you too. 

He reached for the underwear in your other hand and stuffed them into his pocket alongside his knife. You were sure that he was keeping your underwear as a trophy and would be “using” it later. 

You smiled up at him and let him go. You struggled to put on your pants. No matter what, you would be getting blood on them. And no matter what, you would be rubbing the fabric against your wound. The best plan available was to get home as soon as possible. 

Michael stood and waited for you to get ready. For the first time since it had happened, you let yourself look down at the now cold corpse of what was Officer Philbin. 

“We should get out of here. We’ve already been here for too long.”

Michael gave the slightest of nods. You skirted the edge of the body and back to your fallen groceries. You sighed relief. The paper bags had managed to not be soaked through completely, and still held enough strength to hold the groceries. You began packing things away as quickly as you could, but each time you bent over and each time you crouched, you felt a burst of pain sting your body. 

Michael was silent like a cat, and he was at your side immediately. He placed a few fingers on your shoulder and signaled you to move aside. He bent over and gathered all the items that had fallen. He then went over to the other mess of groceries he had made when he had attacked. Before long, everything had been picked up. You held out your arms in order to take one of the bags, but Michael pulled away and shook his head. 

“Oh come on, Michael, let me help.” 

He shook his head again. Harder this time. Let me help with this at least, he seemed to say. 

“But you’re hurt!” You pointed at the dark stain in his abdomen. Yet another shake of his head. He seemed to have made up his mind, and you knew that there would be no convincing him. You let out a sigh. “Fine, fine, suit yourself.”

To be truthful, you were more than a little grateful for the gesture. Despite your pain, it was time to get out of here and get home where it was warm and safe. 

With Michael tagging close behind, you limped your way out of the alleyway and left the bodies in your wake.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Niv for helping me brainstorm this part! I;m not sure when the next part will come out, but it will definitely happen. This series isn't going to end anytime soon!


End file.
